His Theme
by TheBlueCabinet
Summary: "There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore... And I decided I could tell people, beginning with my English teacher." This is what happened after Ponyboy wrote his theme to help others know.


I looked at Mr. Syme then at my theme lying on his desk. The front was unmarked and made my stomach feel nauseous and uneasy. He then flipped the page showing the title and a gigantic red circle around it.

"Pony," Mr. Syme said.

"Yessir," I replied.

He tapped the red circle with a pencil and asked, "Why _The Outsiders_ of all titles?"

I stared at him blankly. Why did I choose _The Outsiders_? "I don't know."

He looked at me unbelieving. He turned toward the chalk board, and I started towards the door, taking that the conversation was over. The thumping of the chalk against the board stopped me in my tracks. Mr. Syme finally finished writing and placed the chalk back down.

"Come here, Ponyboy, and sit down" He gestured me over to a nearby desk to sit at. "Your theme was the story of your life from after your parent's death to you starting to write your theme, correct?"

I nodded.

"You've had a pretty tough life, haven't you."

I nodded again.

"Because of your rough life you chose that specific title, so whether it's tomorrow or next week, I want to know why. Okay? Because the title of a story reflects what might happen or what the story means when it has ended, and I want to know your opinion on the subject matter."

I sighed. "Okay."

I picked up my school bag and started out of the room again, not being stopped by Mr. Syme this time around. Turning into the deserted hallway, I ran. I ran, and I ran, and I ran. Speeding like I was being chased by the devil himself. The world blurred into shades of grey as I went faster and faster. People and buildings became one big blob of nothing. The only thing that had color was the sky. The sun was starting to set now highlighting the darkening sky in gorgeous hues of red, orange, and purple. I started to walk again and smiled to myself. Maybe everything would be okay even though life totally sucks right now.

The hearing was only a few days ago as was the Curtis brothers' heart-to-heart conversation. I sighed to myself and lit a cigarette. God knows I need it. With everything going on, I'm surprised I didn't break down even more than I did. As I was taking a drag of my cigarette, an arm plopped around my shoulders.

"Heyo, Ponyboy," said a familiar voice.

I glanced back clutching my chest like a girl during a horror film. "Sonofagun, Two-Bit, you scared me to death."

He chuckled. "I hope not to death. Superman would kill me."

I chuckled half-heartedly at that. I could hear the undertone of his voice. _We don't need another one dead._ I continued to walk but didn't remove his arm from my shoulders. Two-Bit's presence was kind of comforting, like a warm blanket. Which was quite strange because the warm blanket feeling normally happened when Soda was hugging me or something.

"Darry's been wonderin' where you are." Two-Bit broke the silence.

I sighed, seems like I'm sighing a lot lately. Darry's been on my back about curfew since I had my mental breakdown and was in denial about Johnny's death.

"I'm guessing he sent you to fetch me."

He grinned. "Like a dog!" He started to laugh uncontrollably and ruffled my growing hair. "Didn't feel like havin' my jaw broken like good ol' Steve." He started to laugh again, gaining weird looks from other pedestrians.

"We should probably hurry home then."

"Damn right!"

Dinner that night was awkward partly because Darry scolded me right before hand, and the other part because Soda wasn't home from work yet. I was reading when he walked into the room and fell face first into the bed.

"Bad night?" I asked.

There was a muffled response.

"Okay then," I answered and went right back to reading.

His face appeared from being squashed into the comforter, his face unusually somber. "Do you ever feel alone?"

"Huh?"

"Like," he tapped his chin, "like you don't belong."

I closed my book. "Yeah, a lot now actually. Why you askin'?"

"Just because I guess."

I looked at him weirdly. "Okay then…"

"Night Ponyboy."

"Night Sodapop."

I woke up the next morning with an empty space beside me. Looks like Soda already left for work. Rushing to get breakfast, I bumped into Darry.

"Woah, slow down, little buddy, what's the rush."

"Nothing," I replied.

He stared at me suspiciously. "I totally believe you. Now spill."

My "good" mood dissipated. "School."

"What about school?" he asked.

"English."

"And…"

"Mr. Syme wants me to explain to him why I chose to call my theme _The Outsiders_."

Darry looked puzzled. "Why don't you just tell him?"

I threw my hands in the air. "Because I don't know why! It's just like that Robert Frost poem! I can't make sense of it!"

He seemed to think for a moment. "When I think of the word outsider, I think of someone or something that doesn't belong. Like, um, an apple is an outsider in a banana tree. With people I think of a Soc being in a group full of greasers. The Soc is considered an outsider. He doesn't belong."

I looked at him, a lightbulb flashing. "I'm leavin' now!"

He looked startled. "School doesn't start for another half an hour."

I shouted back at him half-way through the door. "That's the point!"

When I ran to school this time, I actually felt a sense of joy. The world had a tinge of color, not just the sky. I skid to a stop and jogged up the school steps and to Mr. Syme's room.

"Mr. Syme!" I yelled slamming the door open.

Jumping a little he clutched his chest. "Hello, Ponyboy. How are you?"

"I'm good, but I know why I chose that title."

He looked surprised. "That's great. It hasn't even been 24 hours. So tell me."

I took a deep breath. "Our world is divided into groups and social classes. In Tulsa, there's the rich, the middle, then us, the greasers and hoods. There's a lot of hate between the rich and poor especially after my friend, Johnny, killed one of them. But before all that happened, I hated the rich like any greaser would. I thought that the rich had everything. They had no problems and no troubles at home. Then, I met Cherry Valance.

"Cherry told me that the rich have problems too. She said that they are so sophisticated that they hardly feel nothin'. They're always reaching for something to satisfy themselves, but they have everything they could've dreamed of. I actually watched them fight once. They were quite frightening being so calm and collected.

"That same night, Bob, the Soc, was killed. Johnny and I ran away to a church way out in the country. Later on, we saved a bunch of kids from a fire that burnt down that same church. Johnny ended up seriously injured and died. Before he died, there was this big fight between us greasers and Socs. The Soc leader, Randy, didn't show. He said it didn't matter whether we fought or not because nothing was ever going to change. He said the greasers would still be at the bottom and the Socs would have all of the lucky breaks. He was crying while he said this, though.

"He also told me that all ever Bob wanted was for his parent's to say no to him. He would get drunk and hope that his parents would lay down some rules. They instead blamed themselves."

"I remember reading that," Mr. Syme said, interrupting.

I took another breath and continued on. "He ended up calling me by my name when he said good-bye after that conversation. I realized that he was just a man. He was different amongst the normal. Same thing happened when I met the other gangs. I realized that my group was different. We were together for the sake of friendship and family. We relied on each other for help when one was in trouble. Tim Shepard's gang and the Brumly Boys had an assigned leader.

"We were different from the others, just like Randy and Cherry. We were outsiders amongst our own. I was an outsider amongst my own gang. I like readin' and sunsets and movies. I didn't fight for my own pure self-enjoyment. I fought for self-defense. I still shop-lift and smoke, yet I'm not a complete devil. I'm not an angel either.

"As you know, my friend died after saving a couple of kids from a church where we were hiding from the police. I watched him die after the rumble and he told me to stay gold. After he died, another one of my friends, Dally, died because he thought his life couldn't go on after the only thing he cared about left. After their deaths, I collapsed and broke down. I was in denial about their deaths and convinced myself that I killed Bob not Johnny.

"My experience made me realize that everyone had problems. I realized that there were outsiders everywhere, ones that didn't fit the mold. Ones that changed because of life. My older brother had to give up his life to raise me and Soda. Soda had to drop out and get a job to keep me in school. My older brother also had to grow up and raise us right, so Soda and I wouldn't be put in a boys' home. Cherry Valance became a 'spy' for us greasers before the rumble, so we would play fair. We all made sacrifices. We all stepped outside of the box and defied our social standing for our own beliefs.

"I wrote this theme telling my story to help other outsiders to not make the wrong decisions because their lives aren't the best. I want to tell them before it's too late."

The bell rang, and Mr. Syme was clapping.

* * *

 **A/N: It's choppy, but I hope it was still enjoyable. :)**


End file.
